The Reading
by Little Bird
Summary: Castle gives a reading from Heat Rises which turns out unexpectedly for both Castle and Beckett. Caskett.


_Author's Note: I started writing this shortly before the Season 3 finale and, though I am delighted, I assumed this would not be AU for quite some time. So much for that. Set generally Season 3-ish._

_Disclaimers: Much as it depresses me, I do not own Castle. Also of note, the hunk of Heat Rises? I MADE IT UP. If it ends up having any resemblance whatsoever on the actual novel, that would a complete accident of the universe._

Twelfth Precinct

After Hours

Chatter crowded the Twelfth Precinct, homicide division. Four minutes to eight on a Wednesday night found Detective Kate Beckett behind her desk under the infernal paperwork that plagued most humans in jobs of responsibility. The case had wrapped just at the end of the workday, but Beckett was not one to let documentation wait for tomorrow.

A collared shirt with the top buttons left undone snuggled her under a cop blazer. Neglected hair swung from her once neat tail in time to the rhythm of her fingers on the keyboard. The tiny rumple above her right eyebrow was the only indication in her otherwise calm demeanor that Beckett felt irked.

Gilt, glamour and jewels swirled around Beckett's desk. The scent of bubbly alcohol and expensive perfume ebbed and flowed like a fitful tornado waiting to touch down. Two minutes to eight.

As quickly as one minute to eight, a hush overtook the room in patches, one group of social elite at a time. Eight o'clock brought silence but for a few voices.

By the elevator, with his book tucked under one be-tuxed arm, Richard Castle passed out handshakes and warm smiles with generosity. With all her father's charm and good looks but far more good sense, Alexis Castle followed at her father's elbow. Few people as lovely as Alexis were as kind and Miss Castle spread warmth and steady handshakes as liberally as her father.

Beckett may have felt uncomfortable with the event of the evening, but her smile for Alexis was genuine. Her father might have been all hat and no cattle, a popinjay if Beckett had ever seen one, but Alexis would do fine in life. Beneath the surface of her thoughts, Beckett knew Castle himself had played an integral part in guiding his daughter and he deserved that much credit.

Her musings about Miss Castle had led her to smile at the man of the hour. And now, she realized, he was meeting her gaze with his impertinent intensity and more sincere than was appropriate smile.

The man seemed to conveniently ignore the meaning of the word intimate. And the crowd was eating out of his hand. They licked their lips and smirked in anticipation. The warmth of his blue gaze and the tenderness in his smile lines were meant for a bedroom and she knew they were for real. She was embarrassed. He could not have said, "I want you," more clearly if he had whispered it into the microphone waiting for him at her desk.

But nobody disarms Kate Beckett with charms or otherwise. She raised her chin and narrowed her eyes at him in her best "as if," stare. Castle's eyebrows darted up and his eyes twinkled at her. Beckett rolled her eyes to the snickers of the gowns and tuxes and chuffed out a little breath through her nose before fixing her monitor with a determined glare. Unable to prevent the heat from reaching her face, Beckett ground her teeth in spite of herself and tried not to attack her keyboard, entering through several more fields.

Her furious keystrokes became deafening in the silence as Castle deftly installed the lapel mic and slipped its accomplice box into an inside pocket of his jacket. For his part, the writer ignored her ire and picked up his copy of Heat Rises. Beckett kept right on working. But the man next to her did not start reading.

Hands grabbed the stack of files beside her, including the one she was working on and dumped them unceremoniously onto his usual chair. At this, she looked up at him. The frown flickered across his features so quickly that most in the room probably missed it before it was replaced with the same warm steady gaze as before. She had to hand it to him; the man had determination.

"I'm sure you all can appreciate the rarity of discovering someone truly special. A treasure made flesh, unique and shinier than silver. We in New York, are so lucky, truly lucky, to have her protecting us all." He was not looking at the crowd as he spoke. Beckett had little choice but to return his gaze. "I want to introduce to you, my muse." With that he picked up her hand and drew her from her chair to face the small mob of rich people. "Ladies and gentlemen, Detective Kate Beckett."

Clobbered by their applause, Beckett did not have to fake modesty. She gave Castle a hesitant smile and nodded to the assembly. Beckett tried to retake her chair, but Castle did not surrender her hand, rather he perched her on the end of her desk facing him. Uncaring now who saw, she glowered at him. Envelope pusher? Try a mighty shove.

Proving this, mischief infected his grin and he kissed the inside of her wrist before letting go and addressing his fans again. "I have few ways in which I may give back to the Twelfth. I hope, that by offering you my words in this intimate setting from which they were born, you will open your hearts and help this precinct acquire a much-coveted Smart Board. This state of the art technology will aid Detective Beckett and the other fine men and women of the Twelfth bring justice to our streets. Without further ado, I give you a chapter from Heat Rises."

For nearly an hour Richard Castle read aloud to her, and everyone else. For all his insisting on a lapel mic, he never strayed from more than three feet in front of her. Becket did not so much listen to his words as the cadence of them, rising and falling with his emotions as he performed his work for her.

Castle was many things repugnant, but Beckett would not begrudge him her appreciation of his smooth and flawless oratory. Her eyes roamed the absorbed crowd noting as eyelids lowered slightly and calm smiles transitioned from previous laughing, excited expressions. She knew when they stopped seeing the writer but instead, the images of his hypnotic narrative. Relaxation took her captive as well and she watched him openly.

Beckett only realized the hour was winding down when Castle took a few steps closer to her.

"It was always the quiet after that got to Heat, the reminder that no matter what had transpired earlier that day, there was always an after. The last light slid down the wall like a body refusing to fall, refusing to surrender its last breath. That slow slipping away, a uniqueness disappearing from the world forever.

"The press of impending darkness leaned on Heat's chest like an assailant determined to squish her flat to the wall she leaned against. She gasped in spite of herself. But it was not a gasp, Heat heard it for its true nature, a sob. A fine distinction, but the last glow had left the wall and night proved to her the death of the day.

"The simultaneous rattle of keys in the lock and a brief tapping on the door reminded Heat to take her next breath, which, evidently had not been in the plans for her. Against the wall, on the floor with her back to the windows, she had an unobstructed line of sight to the door. The Glock in her hands clicked comfortingly as she released the safety, it was aimed steadily at the door, chest height, before conscious thought caught up. And it was not her service weapon, this was Heat's personal piece.

"Though Heat did not remember retrieving the gun upon returning home, focus and stillness dropped over her like a veil. The knob turned and a smooth baritone called her name before coming through the door.

""I know you gave me a key, but I try to make a habit of not surprising armed women, Nikki. You're home, right? It's dark in here." Rook stepped through the doorway and she watched him for an eye-blink before reengaging the safety and letting the gun clatter on the floor beside her.

"A man of some good sense, Rook froze at the click and then exhaled noisily at the clunk of metal on the floor. His boots tapped the hardwood as he crossed to sit beside her.

""They questioned me for almost two hours about what happened, Nikki. I told them the truth and did my best to help you. No quips and no nonsense, though it was a struggle."

""You didn't have to stick around you know. There was plenty of time for you to have left and they'd never have known. You know I wouldn't involve you in this. I'd never tell them." Heat didn't look at him.

""I trust you absolutely, Nikki, but how can you think, after all this time, that I would ditch you?" Rook turned to face her and his fingertips found her jaw. She did not refuse to look at him, though she considered it. His handsome face filled her vision and the intensity of his cobalt gaze caught her as surely as any snare. She no longer wanted to look away. In his eyes was the comfort she badly wanted, but refused to accept that she needed.

"Nikki," he breathed her name, "when I said always, that didn't just mean sometimes when it's convenient, easy for me. I know I'm not a perfect man, but I feel as deeply as you do, I bleed when cut and my heart beats like yours does. Whatever my past, I am as good as my word. Hear me Kate, I deeply, truly love you and I will always be here for you.""

When had Castle put the book down and come so close she could not focus on his eyes comfortably, his breath warming her cheek? The heat of his body seeped through her clothes. But he did not stop there. Beckett's awareness was caught somewhere between his narration and reality or she would have moved away.

But she could smell his warm, clean, and masculine personal scent. And suddenly his lips halted two millimeters from hers. Their eyelashes tangled as he blinked rapidly.

"Rich-" was as far as her protest got because when her lips pursed to form the R, they brushed his and he kissed her back. It was not the surge of energy that coursed through her, or the sudden intensity of the kiss that startled Beckett back to herself. She did not register the whooping, cheering and whistling of the audience. Beckett realized what was going on only when she found herself giving as good as she got.

Her two hands, plus fury and embarrassment, shoved him hard enough to make him stumble let alone break the kiss.

"Richard Castle! Enough playing around." Beckett whirled her frown at the audience with only enough control to avoid rudeness, "Satisfied? Prove it."

They clapped thunderously. Beckett did not waste any time in stalking off toward the elevator.

Castle Residence

Later That Evening

"I can't believe how well that went." A pleased to near giggling Richard Castle told his martini-sipping mother. He dropped his copy of Heat Rises on his breakfast bar next to her.

A thunk and clatter from the direction of the coat closet attracted Castle's attention back over his shoulder. Alexis was staring at her father. Her fingers had clearly held a hanger a moment ago and the heap of her coat on the floor explained the noise.

"Well? Did you just say you thought that went well?" Alexis left the mess as it was and marched across the hardwood to her father. Her skillfully rendered womanly scowl of disapproval surely exceeded the proper vocabulary of such a young person.

"Oh my," Martha Rogers turned to face her granddaughter, impressed. "It seems there is another perspective on the evening." Martha's bracelets clacked with the dramatic roll of her hand, "By all means, let's hear it."

"If by 'went well', you mean how all your little friends showed up dressed to the nines, I'll conceded that. Or perhaps you're referring the obscene amount of money they just dropped. Another concession." But Alexis clearly felt chapped by something because she squashed her father's attempt to butt in with a vicious headshake. "Or maybe you're proud of your little Freudian slip after your flawless execution of your masterpiece? If you weren't so busy making out with Beckett you'd know about your imminent murder."

Martha squeaked.

Not to be upstaged by his daughter, Castle ignored his mother and stood up to glower down at her, "First of all, she kissed ME. And what slip? I read it perfectly. Every word."

"No-" Alexis began to contest.

But a flustered Castle stumbled on, "Whose murder?" Then he muttered, "Damned paperwork is more important than dressing for the evening."

"Unbelievable!" Alexis seethed, "How did you miss the part where she stormed out, obviously embarrassed? Or how about the look on Josh's face, speaking of homicide." Color rose into her face. "But of course you were too busy declaring your love for his girlfriend to even notice he showed."

"Richard, you didn't." Martha's jaw would certainly unhinge shortly. "I know I schooled you in how to steal hearts, surely you couldn't have done anything that crude."

"Ok, now, a man has a right to his defense." Castle took a step backward, hands in the air, to face the two women. "First," he began counting on his fingers, "on the allegation of my making out with Beckett, I never had any intention of kissing her. She kissed me." Alexis tried to interject but Papa Castle had his eyebrows firmly set and he continued, voice climbing. "Secondly, there was no professing of love, so I have no idea what you think you heard, but I'll show you the passage with which I concluded my reading."

He rummaged through the book and turned it to face them, pointing emphatically. Alexis looked disgusted and Martha appeared to be chewing the juiciest piece of gossip she had had in some time.

Castle looked up at their faces and his rapidly tapping finger ceased to pulverize the text like a dying beetle kicking its last. With a final weak tap, he recognized the implacable expression on his daughter's face and swallowed, suddenly concerned. His voice came out slowly, worn out. "What, exactly, is it you think that I said?"

Alexis' face softened from distain to disappointment and beckoned at him for the book. Holding it aloft before her, she mocked her father's earlier theater, ""I bleed when cut and my heart beats like yours does. Whatever my past, I am as good as my word. Hear me KATE, I deeply, truly love you and I will always be here for you.""

Alexis dropped the book to her side and gave her father an exasperated and impatient stare.

A frozen Richard Castle thawed a second later bringing both hands to clamp over his mouth. His eyebrows did their best to become part of his hairline. "Alexis, tell me I didn't. Just tell me I didn't."

Pity and compassion overtook Alexis' features and softly she murmured, "You did."

Paler than the dead, Castle whispered, "I'm so screwed."

Somewhere deep in his thoughts, the optimist protested, _She kissed me, a lot._

_I would consider writing a sequel, if people want one. R&R!_


End file.
